


Midnight Train to Boston

by SpacePup



Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4
Genre: Angst and Humor, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:44:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7917340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpacePup/pseuds/SpacePup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a pre-war Popsicle to do when one of their closest friends gets kidnapped? Go on a road trip, of course!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Missing Synth

**Author's Note:**

> Its been years since I've put any of my fics online so excuse my rustiness. I promise to make the chapters longer as it goes on!

How hadn’t he noticed them slip into his office? Even with noisy power armor well past their upgrade dates, they had somehow remained undetected for the most part. He’d chalk it up to been so invested into his most current case that the clinking and clanging of rusted metal on rusted metal hadn’t registered. He’d simply thought that perhaps all the noises was just another client.  
What _had_ registered, however, was the blow from the butt of a plasma rifle cracking against his temple. It knocked him clean out of his chair, sending him clattering to the ground on hands and knees. The pain in his skull was enough to fry his optics. Blinded, vision blurred and panic setting in, he looked frantically up at his assaulter. There were more than one, a handful really, but by the way his vision twisted and merged, making it impossible to know just how many there really were.  
Three? Five? He couldn’t tell just how many oddly armored assaulters were in his office. At that point, it didn’t matter much to him. His skeletal hand reached shakily for his pistol. As he clenched his grip around it, a metal boot connected hard with his ribs. The air he didn’t need was knocked out of him as he crumbled to the ground. His brows drew together as he gripped his stomach with both hands, a groan of absolute pain rumbling in his throat. His sensors were going haywire. Ripples and sparks of pain crawled over his skull and dug deep into his abdomen. He was thankful for a brief flash that he didn’t have a stomach or else he would have hurled the contents up from the impact.  
“Nick Valentine?” a deep, static cluttered voice broke through the ringing in the synth’s ears. Nick looked up with a twitching scowl as a hand bigger than his face, clad in armor, reached down and grabbed his suspenders, hoisting him into the air. With numb realization, Nick noticed he was a good foot off the ground. If not more.  
“What’s it to you?” the synth grunted.  
He glared straight ahead at the helmet of whoever was holding him up. The orange visor of the helmet flickered, as if blinking, as the helmet cocked upwards and the low, echoed voice spoke again, more scathing and malicious than when it was first heard.  
“We got someone that needs to speak with you, detective.”

* * *

 

When morning came to Diamond City, the air was cool and crisp. The vendors in the market were bundled in layers. Their breaths became short lived clouds in the air as they advertised their products. Sole gave them all brisk, polite waves and small smiles until she reached the Chem-I-Care. She paused and Solomon waved her over, greeting her with a toothy grin.  
“Lookin’ for a fix, Lamb?” he asked.  
With a chuckle, Lamb shook her head. “Of course not, Solomon. I’m just here for my shipment.”  
The junkie stood and scratched at his scraggly beard. “Those were the stimpaks, right?”  
Chipper, she nodded. “Sure is!”  
As Solomon counted out the stims, Lamb stole a glance around the market. It was a lazily crawling day. Vendors chattered with customers who strolled from stall to stall. Those not shopping lounged about and gossiped. However, something felt missing to Lamb.  
Normally, on a day like this, when everyone knew Sole would be in town, Nick would be waiting around for her at Power Noodles or trying to swipe a paper from Nat. Yet he was nowhere to be seen. Just as she opened her mouth to ask Solomon a question, he dumped a bag of stims into her arms.  
“Good doin’ business with ya.”  
“Oh, uh, thank you, Sol.” She paused, her brows knitting. A slight unease worked its way into her gut. “Quick question before I leave though.”  
“Shoot.”  
“Have, uh, have you seen Nick?”  
The dealer casted her a confused glance. “Nope. Haven’t seen him since yesterday morning. Kinda odd, really, since he follows you around like a lost puppy.” Solomon gave one last, halfhearted shrug before turning to his stash and beginning to count out his med-x, leaving Lamb to her thoughts.  
A frown formed on her face as she moved on. Several of the other vendors reached out to greet her or call her over, but she waved her hand dismissively and continued toward the agency. The neon light outside the office was lying face down on the ground. The fluorescent tubes were cracked and the dangerously toxic dust inside was spilled out.  
_He must not be up yet_ , she tried to reason with herself as her blood ran cold, _and some anti-synth hooligan knocked off his sign again._ She knew neither were the case.  
When she turned the corner and took the first step into the office, her heart dropped into her queasy stomach. The door was wide open, untouched, and Ellie was kneeling in the middle of the chaos and holding her face in her trembling hands. Filing cabinets laid over turned, their contents of crumbled files and papers spilled out on the ground. Where the desk had been was now a dangerously splintered pile of fire wood.  
Lamb carefully stepped further into the agency. She felt her heart beating in her chest painfully. Like it was clawing against her ribcage. Screaming and spitting in fear.  
She squatted next to Ellie and placed a hand on her shoulder. The woman twitched slightly before looking up at the Survivor with wet and bloodshot eyes. Her bottom lip puffed out with a tremble and her tear stained cheeks were as red as could be.  
“Ellie,” Lamb spoke carefully, her voice surprisingly calm,” where’s Nick?”  
A dumb question she already knew the answer to.  
The junior detective bowed her head while she folded her shaking hands in her lap. “I don’t know,” she replied in a tiny whisper. “I was gone all last night. I-I had a personal day off. When I came in this morning…” Her voice hitched and caught in her throat. She went silent, hiccupping and sniffling pathetically as she wiped at her eyes.  
Nick was missing.  
That’s all there was to it. Not that he hadn’t gone missing before, but it had never looked so violent. So forceful. A million dreadful thoughts raced in Lamb’s head as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She stood on legs of jelly and scanned the office again. Not a single thing was left in place. The room was unrecognizable.  
There was however one thing that stood out against the chaos.  
A beat up fedora sitting on a tipped over and snapped in half coat rack. Hanging with an almost cared for look. Like it wasn’t in the middle of a crime scene.  
Lamb stepped over to it, careful to avoid the mess of papers, and gently scooped the hat into her hands. This was defiantly Nick’s hat. In the head band lining there was a single cigarette. A pre-war brand Nick always huffed down. The only kind he smoked. He’d once said something about enjoying the awful cheap taste of it. But it left a smell that lingered for days even before it was smoked.  
Then it hit her. Like a bat to the skull, knocking sense into her whirling mind.  
“Dogmeat!” she blurted out.  
Ellie jumped. “Wh-what?”  
Twisting to face the secretary, Lamb’s eyes filled with determination. “Nick had the idea for Dogmeat to sniff out Kellogg when we were chasing after him! We-“ she paused to wave the hat “-We can find Nick with this! Dogmeat can take up the scent trail and then- BAM! We’ll find him!”  
Ellie perked up as she scrambled to her feet. “Really? You- he can do that?”  
Lamb nodded and held the hat close to her chest. “I can’t guarantee it but I can sure as hell try.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The actual adventure starts.

The long hike back to Sanctuary alone was stiffly quiet and filled with choking questions. Lamb had hoped, prayed the entire walk, that Nick was safe. _At least alive, please_ , she thought with a whimper to herself, holding the hat closer to her chest. Like if she let go, Nick would vanish forever. She bathed in these pathetic, hopeless thoughts until she saw the bridge baited with turrets come into view and had to force herself to ease her still shaking limbs and rambling mind.

                She passed by the greeting gate and stalls without even a wave. Instinctively, her legs carried her towards the strong, still standing tree in the roundabout.

                “General, it’s good to see you back!” a cheery voice greeted. Turning on her heel, frazzled, she watched as her second in command approached. Preston smiled kindly at her as he holstered his weapon. “I thought you’d be gone for at least a few weeks. But I’m sure Hancock will appreciate you being back so soon.” He gave a small huff of amusement at himself. “I think he goes stir crazy without any trouble to cause, to be honest with you.”

                His warm amber gaze flicked to the tight grip Lamb was holding on the battered fedora. He opened his mouth, but was curtly cut off by his General by her raised hand.

                “Preston, please, no questions right now. Just-“ she glanced around and swallowed a nervous hiccup. “-just go gather the rest of the team for me and meet me at the house. Can you do me that huge favor please? No civilians, just people who I’ve traveled with, alright?”

                “Yes, ma’am.” A gloved hand came to his forehead to salute her, something he had taken to doing since she officially took charge as General, before he fluidly turned and began marching off.

                It didn’t take long for everyone to be gathered in the cramped living room; Lamb paced circles in the center with Dogmeat on her heels.

                “So,” Hancock was the first to speak,” what’s up, Sunshine?”

                Some of the others muttered their thoughts, mostly of annoyance for having their actives interrupted.

                “It’s Nick,” she spoke bluntly. “He’s missing.”

                Danse straightened himself as a scowl formed on his face. “Again?”

                Lamb fixed him with a harsh glare. The ex-paladin flinched. “Yes, again,” she retorted coldly. “And I’m going to go and find him.”

                “How?” Cait snorted. “You probably don’t have shite to go off of.”

                “That,” the vaultie raised the fedora and gave it a wave,” is where you’re wrong. We have this.” She gave Dogmeat a pat on the head. “And her.”

                Hancock slid off his perched seat on a chest. His boots hit the ground dully as he straightened his coat out with a small smile. “If you go out huntin’ for the old man, count me in.”

                Lamb shot him an uncertain look. “No-“

                “Yes,” his voice was firm. A stubborn look fixed on her. “No way in hell am I lettin’ you go out there on your own.”

                “I won’t be alone.” She frowned. “I’ll have Dogmeat. Look, if you’re so concerened, I can take some of her sisters too.”

                Piper spoke up this time, waving her hand to catch everyone’s attention. “Look, Blue, if it’s this serious, a couple of hounds won’t be able to keep you safe.”

                A crestfallen look plastered Lamb’s face as she glanced down at her dog. “There’s more than a couple…”

                “What she’s saying, boss,” Deacon began with a tilt of his head and a crooked smile,” and what Hancock is saying is that you’re kinds too much of a big deal to go chasing after some big baddies. We know you can protect yourself, prewar soldier and shit, but you’re kind of reckless.” He snorted and threw his arms over the back of the couch. “Even by my standards.”

                “And what if this is some big scheme to lure you out, mum!?” Codsworth wailed.

                “But…!” Lamb looked around. Everyone seemed to agree. And with Hancock staring at her with big puppy dog eyes… She huffed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, _okay_ , I’ll take someone with me.”

                Danse’s armor clanked loudly as he rose an arm. “I volunteer.”

                “Like hell you are, crew cut!” Hancock hissed. “I already said I was goin’!”

                The ex-paladin glared down at the seething ghoul. With an air of superiority, Danse narrowed his eyes. “I’m far more capable to protect her than you.”

                “Cape-“ Hancock sputtered. He bared his teeth, puffed out his chest, and took a few steps towards the heavily armored man. “You don’t know jack shit about me, you tin fucking can!”

                “Give it a _rest_ , you two!” Lamb interrupted as she pushed herself between them. She gave Hancock a warning look that melted into sympathy when she turned to look at Danse. “I’m taking Hancock. We might have to be stealthily for this one and your power armor makes a heck of a lot of noise.”

                The synth’s eyes softened, as if hurt. “But what if you need-“

                “Then you get to say you were right.” Lamb curtly nodded. “Trust me on this one. Please, Danse.”

                He searched her face for a moment more before heaving out a sigh. “I trust you,” he muttered. Though his narrowed, angry eyes fixed on Hancock, as if to say “just not him”.

                Lamb, satisfied for the moment, glanced around. “Alright, everyone, dismissed.” As they started to pile out of the house, she turned to Hancock. “We’ll leave in an hour, okay?”

 

* * *

 

                Hancock met up with Lamb at the bridge some time later. Dogmeat was already sniffing around, occasionally pushing her snout into Nick’s hat before going back to the ground.

                “She pick up a trail yet?” the ghoul asked as he approached.

                “No,” Lamb muttered. Her focus was on the canine moving around. “But I think when we go towards the direction of Diamond City, she’ll be able to catch something.”

                Hancock adjusted his belt. “Let’s go then, sunshine.”

                At least, the ghoul had to admit, the sky was bright and clear. Although he wasn’t much for nature, the coolness was a welcome compared to summer’s heat. In a month’s time, the Commonwealth would be frozen over, so for now he didn’t mind the sun on his back as he walked. But eventually, the air warmed further as the road became littered with prewar city ruins. The air stunk of paint and leather and smoke.

                Diamond City loomed like a vision. Powerful and threatening yet welcoming.

                Dogmeat’s ears perked, her mouth opened wide as she darted forward, towards the first gate. Her nose twitched as she snuffled around the grounds. A few passing guards stopped to watch, their eyes focused on Hancock, ignoring the dog bumping around their feet. She circled the rusting, green statue once before looking back at Lamb.

                She barked once and her owner darted forward. Hancock held his hat and walked quicker past the glaring guards with a grumble.

                “What, what is it, girl?” Lamb prompted desperately.

                Dogmeat put her nose to the ground as she began to trot steadily away from Diamond City; Lamb was hot on her heels.

                “About time,” Hancock spat under his breath. He gave one last cold look at the ridiculous looking militia before moving on. He couldn’t stand the Diamond City fucks looking at him like he was a hungry feral.

                Dogmeat was restless. Five miles passed before she bolted forward with a sharp bark, eyes locked with a prewar moving truck. It looked fucked. The back tires were shredded to bits and the door to the bed was ripped clean off the hinges.

“ _Deathclaw_ ,” Hancock thought. “ _Or a pair of yao guais_.”

                Dogmeat’s over grown claws scrambled against the metal of the truck’s bed as she jumped in. Another bark echoed and Lamb, wide eyed and heart racing, broke into a run. Hancock watched as she heaved herself up into the truck as he pulled his shotgun out. He’d take perimeter, he figured, and let the vaultie do her thing.

                Inside, the truck didn’t look so out of place. For something in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. There were scraps and pieces of clothes, papers, and a couple of broken pairs of handcuffs. Lamb turned each thing over carefully with her boot, inspecting with hopeful eyes. When nothing yielded fruits, she turned to the hound, who was still pushing her nose all around each corner of the truck, and frowned.

                “It’s okay, girl,” she muttered. “It’s a dead end. Let’s-“

                Hancock’s raspy voice cut her off. “Shit! Lamb, Lamb, c’mere!”

                Both she and the dog jumped out from the bed while frantically looking around.

                “What!?” she exclaimed. A bead of sweat built on her brow. “Hancock!?”

                There was a loud, static-y groan some feet away. Dogmeat bolted forward in its direction and Lamb stumbled with her. Just over a hill, propped up on a dead tree, was a rusty red and black suit of power armor. There was a gaping count of three slashes across the chest, deep enough that flesh could be seen. Oozing, shredded flesh. Guts popping out just behind the bright red swathe of opened skin. The visor flickered and the helmet moved, a groan escaping the creaking metal. When the orange light faded to black, for a split second, Lamb could see scared eyes behind the plexi glass. Wide, bloodshot, almost iris-less. Petrified.

                Hancock stood at the feet of the suit, his gun drawn but lazily pointed at the ground.

                “Brotherhood,” he grunted as Lamb slowly walked over to him. “Fucked up.”

                “Not,” a gurgling voice spoke up behind the helmet,” not Brotherhood.”

                The ghoul kicked their foot, the leg moving like there was nothing but the metal skeleton holding it together, and they almost howled. A gloved hand came up to clutch at the guts slowly seeping out, each finger twitching and trembling, the armor clinking together.

                “I’m not Brotherhood,” they snarled out. Their words were broken from static and muffled by the casing. “Outcasts. I’m from… the **_Outcasts_**.”

                “Outcasts?” Lamb asked with a confused glance at Hancock.

                He shrugged and leaned forward, taking the helmet in his hands and yanking it off swiftly. Lamb gasped and covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes watering at the sight.

                The poor person, the poor **_kid’s_** , face was bloodied and bruised and pale. His cheeks were still wet with tears and bloody dribble was smeared down his busted bottom lip. His eyes were already going dull but still had a spark of stubborn pride. Hardly more than 18 and already spilling his guts. Literally.

                “Christ,” Hancock whispered and reeled back. The helmet, forgotten, fell to the bloodied dirt below.

                “What- what…” Lamb swallowed the lump in her throat. “What happened to you?”

                The suited kid rolled his head and let his half lidded eyes roll for a minute before focusing again on the two. “Deathclaws. A trio, I think. Everything is blurry. Can’t… tell ya what the fuck actually happened, to be honest.”

                “Shock is one hell of a drug,” Hancock muttered.

                “Can’t you just let me die in peace?” he spat back. “I wanna be left to my god on this one, pal.”

                The ghoul snorted. “What were you transporting that the ‘claws wanted to go after?”

                Lamb looked between the two, still too shocked to do much of anything but stare.

                The Outcast raised his arm and waved it dismissively. How in the hell was he still alive? “Nothing of their or _your_ interests…” He let his head roll back, the matted and dirty brown hair falling half way over his eyes. “You know what? Fuck it, I don’t owe those bastards anything. Leaving me here to fucking die like this. Fuck em. Look,” he shifted, grunted in pain, and took a deep breath,” we were carrying this old synth. Second gen, I think. All torn and shit. He was loud. Said something about his friends were going to come get him. Was really wanting to get back to somebody. Then he tried this move- pretended he was a bomb. Didn’t work out in his favor.”

                Lamb’s heart sped up. It pumped so fast and hard that her ribcage ached. She kneeled slowly down onto the ground so that she was eye level with the soldier. Forcing her voice to be calm, eyes gentle, she spoke.

                “Then what?”

                “Then… fuck,” he coughed and sputtered and sprayed blood onto himself. “Then all that fucking noise of us trying to get him to shut the hell up got the attention of those over grown lizards, I guess. I… I can’t feel my legs.” His eyes started to roll back, his body going limp against the tree.

                No, this guy couldn’t die yet. He still had important information. With furrowed brows, Lamb produced a stimpak from her bag. She drove the needle into his chest and held his struggling form still as she drained the liquid into his heart.

                “Let me die!” he gasped out, cracking his fist against her chin. Knocked onto her back, she grunted. Hancock ran up to her side and helped her up.

                “Christ, let the guy expire already!” he muttered as he gently took her face. His eyes narrowed at the bruise already forming on her chin. She swatted his hands away and marched over to the kid once more.

                “You can die when I get what I need!” The words were awful, it made her tongue heavy in her mouth and her heart heavy in her chest, but she needed what he knew. A cold sweat sheeted her forehead when his icy eyes turned to her. “Where did they take the synth?”

                “Fuck-“ a fit of bloody coughs made the kid seize violently. “Fuck you!”

                “Tell me!” desperation filled her voice. She dropped onto her knees and grabbed the kid’s hand. “Please. He was so important to me… He- I- please!”

                “Fine, fine, just,” he paused to yank his hand away from her grip. ”We were supposed to bring him to the Capital wasteland. They… fuck, they might’ve taken him there, alright?”

                “The Capital?” Hancock rasped. “That’s fuckin’ far.”

                “If you hurry, and stop wasting your time with a half dead guy, maybe you can catch them before they get all the way there,” the kid mumbled. “Shit…” His eyes rolled back again and his head slowly fell to rest against the tree. When his chest stopped moving, Lamb put his helmet back on him.

                A moment of silence followed before she stood, face grim.

                “That’s that then,” she said quietly.

                “What?” Hancock looked at her. He had been so focused on the corpse he barely heard her.

                She turned to him, alight with angry determination. “We have to go to Washington DC.”


End file.
